Here is a shot of me with sons #3 and #5. I don't usually think of myself as a small person, but these two make me feel downright petite. I look at this picture and wonder how I ever could have given birth to them, as well as three other similar-sized humans. Of course, even though these guys were rather enormous babies (9 lbs. 13 oz. and 10 lbs. 2 oz., respectively), they were a good bit smaller than they are now when they made their grand entrances into the world.
I almost can't stand it...they are so cute. I know I'm not supposed to say that about my own kids, but I can't help it. If they were here, I would have to kiss them.
I love this photo, which was taken when we were out at Our Lady's university recently for the Michigan game, because it's of two of my favorite people in the world--two of my beloved boys--at one of my favorite places in the world--the grotto at Notre Dame that is a faithful replica of the one at Lourdes. I am sort of stealing that line from son #3, the one on the left; I took a picture of him with his adorable girlfriend in front of the Administration Building with the Golden Dome on top, and he wrote a caption under it on his Facebook page that read, "At my favorite place with my favorite person." (Isn't that sweet? And his favorite person is the one who snapped this picture of me flanked by these two handsome young men of mine.)
Just looking at this picture gives me a severe case of missing-my-boys-itis. I miss my big, strapping lads, those gentle giants who tower over me and treat me like a queen (just as my husband promised me they would when they were rambunctious little boys who acted like a litter of energetic puppy dogs). I'm so glad I got to see these two sons a little over a week ago in South Bend, but ever since we returned from that trip, I've been having a sort of post-get-together letdown. My hubby flew to Dublin yesterday, and I would have gladly tagged along with him (despite my well-documented fear of flying) rather than stay here all by my lonesome in my big empty house, but there weren't any available seats on the plane.
Oh well, I may never get to Ireland; but I know I'll get back to Notre Dame, the home of the Fighting Irish. In fact, my husband and I are headed out there the weekend after next for another game! And son #5 will be there, dwarfing his little mom like he always does.